


Everything I Know

by Suzelle



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 20:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzelle/pseuds/Suzelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki demands Barton tell him everything about the Black Widow. He gets...a bit more information than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything I Know

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired in great part by this fabulous comic: http://suzelle3782.tumblr.com/post/27055094236/mizbingley-lettiebobettie-i-dont-think-its. A couple of the info tidbits in this fic are borrowed from there. The rest are of my own headcanon. 
> 
> This is a birthday present for mizbingley, with the prompt of "Clint telling Loki EVERYTHING." I hope you enjoy, my friend!

The acquisition of Barton in addition to Selvig has proven to be a stroke of good luck to Loki in more ways than one. He would have been more than pleased with simply having Selvig’s knowledge of the tesseract, but Barton’s skills and knowledge of SHIELD prove to be extraordinarily helpful. But, he reflects, Barton can be useful to him in other ways as well. Barton’s heart has allowed him to grow intimately close with several members of SHIELD, men and women who he knows will be hunting for him night and day. It will be…useful for him to know more of these people, their secrets and weaknesses. For he knows that those confrontations will come eventually, and psychological warfare is of far more interest to him than any of these mindless explosions. 

“So, Agent Barton,” he says smoothly as he comes up behind him at one of the stolen computer terminals, “Tell me everything about the Black Widow.” 

Barton stops at his work, and his face grows thoughtful instead of the expressionless glare it’s been in since they left SHIELD. 

“Well, you know that she has naturally red hair,” he says, “I thought for years that she dyed it. But it’s the real deal. I joked once that she could pass for a mascot for a Russian Wendy’s, she clocked me but good for that one…”

“Yes, yes, I know what her physical appearance is, Barton,” Loki says, “Tell me about her, your history with her, her strengths, her weaknesses.” 

“Well, if you play techno music really loud, it _physically_ sets her on edge,” Barton says, “She’s usually so stoic about everything, but put it on and she will kill you with her pinky. Maria Hill had a shiner going for about two weeks after the Christmas party last year.

“She’s a food snob, but she’ll never tell you that. She’ll eat the junk-food take-out I get when we’re on a mission, but then she’ll make me eat a salad on the side, to make sure we’ve got a balance. And she collects recipes of homemade dressings from all the cities we stay in. It’s a whole file she’s got hidden behind the rest of her paperwork at SHIELD.

“Her favorite color is blue, but no one really knows that except me,” Barton continues, “everyone at SHIELD thinks her favorite color is red, because of the hair and because it’s more…scary, I don’t know what. But she likes blue. When we finished that mission in Budapest we went to a street fair and she bought this stupid-looking blue bracelet. The beads were really gaudy and she’d never wear it, but she really liked the color. It hangs from a lamp in her quarters at SHIELD.” 

If Loki were a more petulant god, he would roll his eyes at the mindless sentiment that stems from this man. He can hardly parse through this stream of useless information to garner the weapons he will need to use against Natasha Romanov. It is clear, however, that this is some deep form of love—although then, the question becomes, does she feel the same about him. 

“Whenever we go swimming together she’s just like a little kid,” he goes on, “she loves to splash around in the water, do fancy dives, make sure that everyone else gets as soaked as she does. But she wears the most boring swimsuits, usually. All different shades of blue, sometimes purple to mix it up a bit. The purple looks great with her hair.

“She loves going to plays, whenever we’ve got time,” he says, “Especially when we’re not in the States. I go with her, because she comes with me when we go to hockey games, even though she brings a flask every time we go to those. And when she’s tired, and we’re alone together, she just curls up like a cat. Sometimes she puts her head on my leg, and hums some Russian song that she’s forgotten the words to, and... ”

“ _Enough!_ ” Loki snaps, “You are giving me useless nothings, Barton!” 

He calms himself. Perhaps the key is to become more specific. 

“Tell me about your relationship with her, specifically,” he says, “When did it start? What does it entail?” 

Barton pauses. 

“The first time I ever made her laugh was on a mission in Chicago, about seven years back,” he says, his eyes flickering behind the blue tint at the memory, “I asked her to dance with me, and she made me eat four hard boiled eggs afterward as payment. But—I made her laugh. Just from dancing. But that’s how she is, always. She’ll never laugh at things we say. She just laughs at things we do.

“And we never have to _talk_ , you know, about whatever it is that we’ve got,” he says. “We talk about our past, and she’s told me nearly everything at this point—but I could never ask her about it, she had to come to me when she was ready. And after that hospital fire in Istanbul…yeah, there was a lot she said that night. And I’ve told her nearly everything about me. But we don’t talk about _us_ , because we don’t need to. She just…she knows. Like I know.” 

Loki considers Barton in silence. Sentiment. Childish, pure sentiment. It is love, no doubt to be had there, and there is now little doubt in Loki’s mind that it is mutual. He wonders if the Black Widow knows as much useless information about Barton as he does her, and decides that if she does, she likely treasures it just as fiercely. Something tugs at him, some hidden yearning pushed down far too deep inside him, and he wonders at it. It’s enough to make him question, if only briefly, whether there is perhaps something powerful to be said for such a mutual desire, for knowing someone so intimately, so deeply. 

But enough. Now is not the time to be thinking such things. And Barton’s information gives him more than enough to be getting on with.


End file.
